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Everyone has a complicated relationship with the place they come from. In the U.S. that ambivalence is exacerbated by a near-constant wanderlust that is baked into our national mythology. Deconstruction of that mythology isn’t exactly a new thing, despite what the current zeirgeist might dictate.

I tried to leave Maine – I did – but it pulled me right back in like a Rothko. There are stories here that need telling. Hilarious, dark, complicated stories.

The Maine State flag is a bit polarizing these days. The current version is the state seal and motto on a deep blue background. It’s fine up close, but illegible from a distance. The Maine State seal features, among other things, a farmer and a fisherman. They represent, in a very surfacey way, the land and sea, the primary sources of sustencance and commerce in Maine. Metaphorically, they allude to the notion that there are in fact “two Maines”. That concept is a bit large for an introduction, so I’ll just be evasive and say that most of what I create hinges on that narrative. No big deal.

Anyway. The farmer holds a scythe, and the fisherman is leaning on an anchor. It’s all very whimsical. I’ve always seen a double meaning in those two symbols of commerce, one that is much closer to explaining Maine if that is even possible: The scythe guts you, but the anchor keeps you moored. The anchor drags you down, the scythe cuts you free. That’s what it’s like to be from Maine.

Scythe & Anchor is a place for stories to live.